


Cupcakes

by Bunny7033



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Food Fight, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunny7033/pseuds/Bunny7033
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man has been frequenting Crumble and Flake for over a month. He comes in with a redheaded girl who, from their conversations, Dean thinks is a dancer. He dresses like a librarian - albeit a hot one - and on some days he wears a hideous, shapeless trenchcoat that should not make Dean more attracted to him. He’s got the bluest eyes Dean’s ever seen.</p><p>In which Dean and Benny co-own a bakery, and a certain blue-eyed customer catches Dean's eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupcakes

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Dean groans and rolls over, swatting aimlessly at the bedside table in search of his alarm clock.

_Beep._

With a sigh, he opens his eyes. It takes a few seconds of blinking before his vision is focused enough to see the bright red numbers on the clock. 4:45.

Shit.

Dean leaps out of bed only to land on the floor with a loud _thump._ Hissing and rubbing his left hip, which feels like it took most of the impact, he looks back to see his foot tangled in the sheet. He gets up again, more slowly this time, and hurries into the bathroom. Not enough time for a shower, but he can at least brush his hair. And his teeth.

Five minutes later he’s out the door, the laces of his boots undone and his jacket halfway on, bemoaning his decision to let Sam borrow his car. He rushes down the sidewalk, hurrying past Kaffeine - until he backtracks and pushes his way into the tiny coffee shop. He has a few minutes to spare, and there is no way he’ll be able to make it through work without his espresso.

“Regular,” he orders breathlessly. He’s the only one at the counter; it’s too early for most people to even be up.

Neverthless, Gabe looks wide-awake and amused as he sets to work making Dean’s coffee. “In a hurry today, muffin bun?” the barista asks, grin widening at Dean’s scowl. “I can’t believe I don’t even get a hello.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Crumb cake? Sugar? Precious danish? There are too many bakery-related nicknames for me to pass up on this goldmine.” He places the deliciously warm cup in Dean’s hand. “Two eighty-five.” Dean mutters a hurried ‘thanks’ as he hands over the money.

“Have a great day, my darling chocolate cannoli!” he hears Gabe call as he hastens towards the door. He shoots a rude hand gesture in the barista’s direction before he’s back outside, speed-walking towards the bakery. He bites back a curse as he glances at his watch - already late.

*******

Dean and Benny opened up Crumble and Flake five years ago; in Dean’s opinion, it was the best decision he ever made. It sure didn’t earn him many points with his father, who laughed when Dean first told him that he wanted to go to culinary school, but he loves the bakery. The smells, the food, the people - everything about it. He works with his hands, with ingredients and recipes that all come together to make delectable, mouthwatering treats; after so many years, he sometimes feels silly for how happy it makes him when he bakes a flawless batch of cupcakes, or produces a perfect loaf of bread, the dark, earthy scent that means it will taste outstanding permeating the air. He even doesn’t mind the bizarre hours, the workdays that start at five or four or two a.m. Sam is always saying that if he had to get up before the sun does he would die, but Dean approaches his mornings with a kind of eager joy. Sure it takes him a cup of coffee or two to actually wake up, but on the early mornings when Dean is the only one in the shop, everything is quiet and peaceful and he’s in the baking zone, and it’s his favorite time in the world.

In the shop he meets new people every day, and talks with both one-timers and regulars. He sees the way that every person who walks into Crumble and Flake leaves happy. At the end of the day he figures that he loves what he does, and if his father doesn’t approve, at least he has Benny and Sam.

*******

“You’re late,” Benny calls from inside the back room as soon as Dean enters the shop.

“Fuck you,” Dean replies, shrugging off his jacket. “It’s only 5:07.” When he goes into the back he quickly tugs on an apron, then takes a sip of his coffee.

“Coffee from the _enemy?_ ” Benny looks pointedly at the cup in Dean’s hand. “You wound me, brother.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Kaffeine is not the enemy, and you know I can’t work this early without my fix.”

“Espresso machine out front not good enough for ya?”

“Not as good as the one at Kaffeine,” Dean admits without shame.

*******

As much as he likes working alone in the shop, he likes working with Benny more. They met in culinary school, both brand-new students with a passion for food. They became instant friends, and never looked back. Now Dean considers Benny more of a brother than a mere friend or business partner. Benny is from Louisiana; he’s a big guy, perpetually cheerful, and he makes the best apple pie Dean has ever tasted.

The back room is filled with playful banter as they knead the dough and pull large pastry-filled trays in and out of the oven. It’s usually one of the highlights of Dean’s morning, except today, Benny is teasing him about a certain customer.

The man has been frequenting Crumble and Flake for over a month. He comes in with a redheaded girl who, from their conversations, Dean thinks is a dancer. He dresses like a librarian - albeit a hot one - and on some days he wears a hideous, shapeless trenchcoat that _should not make Dean more attracted to him._ He’s got the bluest eyes Dean’s ever seen.

Dean is great with the customers, he really is - but whenever the blue-eyed man steps up to the counter Dean finds himself tongue-tied. On more than a few embarrassing occasions he has stood in front of the man opening and closing his mouth, cheeks growing more and more flushed, before running off without saying a word and leaving the blue-eyed man in the hands of Kevin, the local student who mans the shop counter on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.

More often than not he stays in the back room - he _avoids_ , he doesn’t hide - in order to not make himself look like a complete idiot in front of the man, though every morning he always makes sure they’re stocked up on fresh cinnamon buns, because it’s what the blue-eyed man orders each time he comes in. Last week he had finally heard the man’s name, when the redhead - who is his sister, not his girlfriend - called out, “Castiel! If we aren’t at the studio on time I am going to _murder you._ I cannot afford to be late again.”

Benny thinks _Castiel_ is ‘a stupid-ass name.’ Dean thinks it is wonderful and fits the blue-eyed man perfectly, which is why Benny has been teasing him relentlessly. Not that he hasn’t been doing that ever since the day he’d found out about Dean’s epic teenage girl level crush. It’s a Wednesday, which means that Kevin is not going to be available as a buffer between Dean and the blue-eyed ma - _Castiel._ Benny is trying - unsuccessfully - to convince Dean to ask him out.

“We don’t even know he’ll be here today,” Dean protests halfheartedly, knowing full well that Castiel and his sister come to the shop right as it opens, at seven on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Like clockwork.

Benny immediately calls out his bullshit. “Sure we do. You think I don’t know when you’re lyin’?” He smirks. “If you don’t step up and tell ‘im you like ‘im, I might start droppin’ some hints the next time he comes in here…”

Dean scowls. “Shut up, man.”

He tosses a handful of flour at Benny, who mock-gasps. “You’ll pay for that one, freckles.” Benny launches forward and begins assaulting Dean’s stomach with wiggling fingers. Taken by surprise, he yelps and starts pushing at Benny.

“Don’t you dahahare!” he exclaims, a giggle slipping into his voice. Even through the apron Benny’s fingers cause light, electric sensations to shoot through Dean’s stomach; when the other man grabs Dean’s sides, protected by only his thin t-shirt, Dean breaks into full-blown laughter. “Behehehenny, quihihit it!”

“What’sa matter, brother?” Benny teases. He scribbles his fingers up and down Dean’s sides. “Ticklish?”

“Ahahaha, you sahahahahuck!” Dean laughs, squirming against the counter where Benny has him pinned. Ever since the incident in college when Benny had discovered Dean’s ticklishness, the man has been using it against him.

He laughs even harder when Benny’s hands wander down a bit further, pinching at his hipbones. Desperately, he reaches behind him and blindly tosses another clump of flour at Benny, who sputters, “What the hell?” After a moment, however, he chuckles and gives Dean a grin that makes him incredibly nervous. “Ya know you just gave me even more motivation to do this?” he asks Dean.

Before he can reply, Benny is digging his fingers into Dean’s hipbones. He shrieks and flails, falling against the counter as he explodes with laughter. “Nah! Noohohoho, Behehehenny stohohohohop! Ihihihi, I’m gohohonna kihihihill you!”

His elbow connects with a bag of flour, sending a cloud of white powder up onto his shoulder and the left side of his head. There is a second of frozen silence before Benny pulls away from Dean and busts out laughing. “Brother, you,” he gasps, wheezing, “you should see yourself-”

Dean can’t stop his lips from curling into a smile. “Lihihike you look any better,” he retorts, still giggling a little as he rubs the residual ticklish feelings away from his sides. Benny’s got flour and bits of dough all over his apron, shoulders, and face, clinging to his hair and beard. Dean can see his own shoulder covered in the stuff, and he can feel the powder settling on his cheek.

A faint sound indicates customers coming into the store. Dean glances out, still grinning - until he sees Castiel and the redhead standing in front of the counter, examining the various cookies and muffins out on display. He looks at Benny in a panic, but the other man pushes him out of the back room into the shop, saying, “Go for it brother. I ain’t dealing with your pining anymore.”

Dean stumbles up to the counter and - he congratulates himself on there only being a few moments of awkward silence - says brightly, “Hey! How can I help you?” He is painfully aware of the fact that he’s covered in flour. His hair is probably a mess - and at this point he should probably just go back to middle school, because he sounds like he’s about thirteen.

“I’d like a cinnamon bun,” Castiel says, his voice deep and gravelly and this is the first time he’s spoken directly to Dean - he’s pulled from his thoughts by Castiel continuing, “We also have an order of a dozen cupcakes to pick up.”

“R-right,” Dean stutters. He clears his throat. “I’ll have that ready for you in a minute.” He grabs a cinnamon bun from inside the case, slipping it into a bag that proclaims _Crumble and Flake; all your bakery needs!_ He sets the bag on the counter before rushing out back to grab the cupcakes, shooting Benny a glare as he goes.

He picks up the box, then hesitates. The cover of the blue cardboard box is bare save for the name of the shop written in simple script. Before he can chicken out he scrawls _call me_ along with a ten-digit number across the top of the cupcake box. Then he whirls around and strides back to the counter, shoving the box in Castiel’s hands. The other man stares at Dean’s scribbled message with wide eyes - and damn, it makes him look even more gorgeous - before he is dragged unceremoniously from the store by the redhead who is complaining, “I don’t have time for this, I swear if I’m late for my dance class one more time-”

Dean gapes after them for a moment before he turns, letting his head fall forward and bang against the wall. “What did I just do?” he mutters, feeling his cheeks start to burn. He flips off Benny - who he can hear laughing, the bastard - before stomping out to the back room to decorate more cupcakes. Cupcakes, he can deal with.

*******

That afternoon when Dean gets home he is ready to take a nap - it’s only four thirty, sue him, he’s had a long day - until a message pops up on his phone. When he opens it, he thinks his heart stops.

_Would you like to get coffee sometime?_

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr, at: [calmturquoise](http://calmturquoise.tumblr.com/post/87064562675/cupcakes). For more stories in this series, click [here](http://calmturquoise.tumblr.com/tagged/random-bakery-au).


End file.
